


Dr Gumpy Smelly Beck

by Ice20



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Sick Fic, Sweetness, sick!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice20/pseuds/Ice20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermes is on its way back to Earth, when Dr Beck catches the flu. The crew takes care of him.</p><p>Fluff and sweet short fic, that is it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dr Gumpy Smelly Beck

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody!  
> This is the first fic I write in The Martian fandom, as well as the first M/F fic I have ever written. But I loved the book and I liked the movie so much that here we are.
> 
> AN: I'm not a native English speaker, so I'm sorry for any grammar mistake you'll find. I proof-read the fic a couple of times but I'm sure something escaped my attention.  
> Also, I'm not a doctor, so sorry for any medical inaccuracy.
> 
> This fic is so sweet your teeth will develope cavities, so be warned!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The possibility of someone getting sick during the travel to and from Mars was a fairly concrete one. During such a long time the travel required, the odds of at least one member of the crew getting sick were quite high. Given the fact that the Ares III crew spent double the expected time in space, the chances were doubled. Even in a small ship like the Hermes and with six people that, before their departure from Earth, had been controlled by specialists and followed by an entire equipe of doctors for months, and all said eminent luminaries had declared them free from any form of disease, the chance still stood. Anyone could suddenly fall ill, or simply hurt themselves performing their tasks.

That's why, after all, they had a doctor on board. A doctor who, apart from being also the EVAs specialist, was ready to diagnose if something was wrong and to intervene immediately, as well as to perform emergency surgery on any and all of his crew mates. He had been given all the tools to do so.

Despite the length of the journey, anyway, there had been almost no need for Dr. Chris Beck to act as the, well, the doctor he actually was. Not until Mark's rescue, of course. Then, he had had plenty of opportunities to show his abilities as the crew's physician, immediately beginning to take care of Mark when he got safely aboard. After the expected hugs and tears, he had taken Watney away from the Commander and the rest of the crew to do a quick but attentive examination of his patient – and good friend, which made looking at him even more difficult – and to see any immediately needed treatments.

And then, Beck had had a lot to take care of for the following months. Painkillers to administer, advices to give, pills to dose. Wounds to control periodically, ribs to make sure were healing well, massages to stop the muscle cramps. But also, endless periodical consultations with nutritionists back on Earth, as well as a few private chats with Mark about the trauma he had lived throu.

Beck was not a psychologist, his degree concentrated on the physical healing more than the mental one, but that didn't mean he had not taken a few classes back in his days about psychological support. He knew how important that was, how essential for a patient's well-being to have someone to help them with the mental wounds after being treated for the fleshly ones. Also, of course back on Earth NASA had made sure that at least one member of the team was able to act as a good counselor if it was needed. No matter how many evaluations had been made, a nervous breakdown could always happen.

So, during the first hundred days or so of Mark being back – essentially, for almost the first half of the journey that would take them back home – Beck had made sure to take care of his patient in the best way possible, and the results were amazing to say the least. Mark was still way skinnier than he had been when they had left him on Mars – and God, that moment still hunted their dreams at night – but his complexion was less haggard and emaciated, his bones less prominent and his color a healthier rose. Even his hair, that had started falling because of his chronic malnutrition, was growing back thicker.

Not to mention the way Mark's eyes were clearer than they had been those first days, his hands almost never shaking anymore, and the nightmares less frequent. Chris knew a long recovery time was still ahead of him, and surely Watney would have to keep seeing therapists – real ones – once home, but he was still proud of what he had accomplished with the little knowledge and resources he had.

Apart from the whole Watney ordeal, anyway, things were quiet and no major nor minor discomfort affected the crew in any way. They were now a mere thirty-five days from Earth, all of them excited to finally be back, to see their loved ones after the long absence, when the foregone sickness hit one of them all of a sudden. Problem is, it hit none other than Chris Beck.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It all started with Chris waking up one morning – well, what was Hermes' idea of morning, anyway – feeling chilly despite the warm body beside his. Beth's slender arm on his chest and her breasts pushed against his side did little to nothing to stop the shiver that ran down his spine, and Chris let out a low whimper of discomfort. Problem was, as he did so, he felt the soreness of his throat and the whimper became a choked cough that startled Beth awake.

Bleary eyes opened and searched for his face.

“Chris? What is it?” she asked, voice still thick with sleep.

 _Fuck_. He knew what this meant. Actually, he didn't need his PhD to confirm his diagnosis.

Beck looked at her, shaking his head. God, even doing that was painful! He screwed his eyes shut, the dim lights in the room seeming too bright.

“Beth, get up and out of the room, please,” he asked her, his voice calm but firm as his hand found her hair and caressed her head gently, in silent reassurance.

“Wait, what?” Beth asked, now completely awake. She pushed herself on her elbows, grabbing his hand and taking it into hers. She was looking at him with concerned wide eyes.

“Nothing is wrong, don't worry,” he tried to reassure her despite the scratchy sound of his voice, his thumb running over the knuckles of her hands. When had he become so accustomed to Beth's hand to be able to recognize their every bone, the smooth skin and the small, almost invisible scar there at the base of her middle finger? “I think I got the flu and you should immediately leave the room to avoid getting sick, too,” he explained her.

She nodded and immediately got out of bed, changing into a pair of comfortable sweats laying on the floor nearby.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked him, quickly brushing her lips over the heated skin of his cheek before she made a beeline for the door.

He smiled, rueful and sad, and shook his head. “I just need you not to go”

Beth knew how important it was for her to follow Chris's directions right now, and even if her instinct screamed her to come back and hug him and kiss his forehead and just be a mother-hen, she did right as she was asked, opening the door to exit the room. No matter how worried she was – and she was _incredibly_ worried, Chris wasn't the kind of guy that alarmed other people if he didn't have a serious reason – she was aware that leaving was the right thing to do. Catching a cold wasn't a great idea, even less so when the ship's doctor was also affected and, therefore, unable to perform at his best.

“I'll inform Lewis,” she told him before she left, a small kiss blown in his direction but her voice wavering slightly in concern.

Chris smiled at her, a bright smile despite how bad he was feeling, but when the door was shut he leaned his head back against the mattress. He knew what the protocol was in these cases. Isolation. For at least five days. That would avoid spreading the disease. Problem was, if the disease was flu like he suspected, given the unexpected manifestation of the symptoms, then the infection had already started one and a half days ago at least, only now appearing in its peak.

A good thing about the flu was that there were only a few ways to spread it – by directly coughing or sneezing in the eyes, mouth or nose of someone; when a person inhaled the aerosols produced by somebody coughing or sneezing; through hand-to-mouth or nose transmission – and so he was fairly sure he had not infected anyone else at this point. Also, as long as he and whoever was in the room with him wore a mask over their mouth and nose, there was almost no chance of contagion at all.

The bad thing about the flu was that Chris never caught it, _ever_ , but when he did, once every five or so years, he was bed ridden for at least four days feeling like the dead. And he was an awful patient, too, he knew that – the best doctors always were the worst patients, that's something everybody knew.

Closing his eyes, Beck cataloged each and every one of the exhibiting symptoms, starting from the most obvious ones.

He was feeling extremely cold and there was no doubt he was running a fever; he could feel his skin was flushed and his eyes were red and swollen. The sensibility to the light was a direct consequence of his headache, annoying and painful. The cough and the dry throat spoke volumes about his conditions, but it actually was the fatigue that alarmed him the most. Beck was the kind of guy used to extreme physical efforts, he was healthy and made physical exercise; he liked highly dangerous sports and was no strange to feeling tired or aching after a long day. But the extreme body aches he was feeling in his joints and back and the pervasive fatigue that was bone-deep were way too strong to be underestimated.

All in all, Chris felt as if he had just been ran over by a truck. And then the truck had reversed and ran over him once more, just to make sure he felt like the dead.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The knock on the door startled Beck awake. He had fallen asleep feeling sorry for himself mere minutes after Beth had left, and he had a good idea of who was on the other side of the door. Also, that knock meant he had been asleep for just a few minutes, and that's probably the reason why he was feeling slightly confused and dizzy. Well the dizziness could also be because of the nausea, but at that point he couldn't really tell the difference anymore.

“Come in,” he rasped, wincing at the sound of his own voice. He really needed some water.

The door opened, and Commander Lewis walked in. She was already wearing a mask, luckily, and Beck silently praised her quick thinking and the protocol knowledge. He knew the woman was extremely smart, that was after all the very reason she was the Commander of the mission, and Beck loved smart people. Ask Beth.

She entered the room and her eyes lingered over his form, taking in his miserable appearance. Still laying in bed, hair rumpled and eyes red, flushed skin, he was the picture of sickness, personified.

“Dr Beck,” she nodding, ever professional after all this time spent together in space and all the regulations they had broken.

“Commander,” he greeted, grimacing at the pain in his throat but trying to conceal it.

Lewis' eyes softened; clearly his effort at subtlety had not worked. She sat on a nearby chair, the only one in there; everything in the small cabin could be considered _nearby_ , given the dimensions of the room itself.

“I can see why Johanssen looked so upset,” she said.

“Sorry, didn't mean to alarm anyone. It's just a flu, it will be gone in a few days,” he reassured her, voice sounding comically congested because of the stuffed nose. “But I told her to leave before I could get her infected, too”

Lewis nodded in approval. “Good job. So, what can we do to help you get better?”

“I just need some pills and rest and I'll be fine,” he said. “Sorry I'll be a burden for you and the guys”

Lews patted his hand affectionately. “Don't be. Even doctors are allowed to get sick, from time to time,” she joked.

Chris did his best to laugh, but it came out quite weak. The idea of effectively being a burden and nothing more for the crew for the following few days made him feel useless and unnecessary, superfluous even. Sensing his down spiraling mood, Lewis cleared her throat.

“What do you need now, Doctor?” she asked, effectively taking his mind away from those sad thoughts.

“I'll need paracetamol, and a mask to wear whenever someone else gets in here. Also whoever comes in will need one, too, but you already know that,” he added with a little smirk, vaguely gesturing for the Commander's face. “The pills are in a labeled bottle. Then water, and rest. That should be enough; in a few days I'll be good as new”

Lewis nodded, then out of nowhere produced a bottle of water that handed him. Chris's eyebrows shot up in surprise and gratitude, and immediately he tried to unscrew the cap, feeling embarrassed at how clumsy his movements were and how weak his grip was. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't gather enough force to open it, which told him his fever was higher than he had thought and his body weaker than estimated.

To Beck's great shame, Lewis reached out and, gently pulling the bottle away from his hands, unscrewed the cap with fast movements and strong fingers, giving the bottle back once again. She generously said nothing about his burning ears, and waited patiently for him to drink.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“Don't worry about it,” she told him, getting on her feet once again. “I'll send someone back with the pills and your med-kit as soon as possible. And we'll bring you your meals – no need for you to get up and go to the kitchen when you'll have to wear a mask anyway”

“Commander?”

“Yes?”

“What, uh, what about Beth? Johanssen, I mean. There're no more free bunks,” he pointed out. Beth couldn't sleep with him, obviously. Actually, truth be told, he was the one sleeping with her, seeing as this was her bunk, but whatever.

“We'll find a solution for that, too. Don't worry about it, Doctor. Get some sleep, you really look like you need it,” she replied.

Then, she left the room, and he was alone once again.

This time, he pulled up the blankets tightly around himself, turned on his side, and fell asleep almost immediately, already exhausted.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Chris was startled awake by the sound of the door opening. He felt too tired and dizzy to even begin to guess how much time had passed since he had fallen asleep. Underneath the covers, he felt sweaty and cold. Opening his eyes was an effort that required energy his body didn't have right now, and he only did it because whoever had gotten into the room was now kneeling in front of him.

Opening his eyes, he found himself face to face with non other than Beth. She was so minute that with the mask on, the only visible part of her face were the eyes, big and worried, staring at him. His own mask, which he had left on when he had fallen asleep earlier, was still there, dangling slightly on one side; he pushed it firmly back in place.

“I brought you lunch,” Beth told him quietly, as if sensing his headache would have loudly protested at any stronger sound.

His eyes spotted a covered plate on the small table; beside it there was his med-kit. Lewis had promised him she would send someone back with it. He had probably been in such a deep, exhausted sleep by then that he hadn't even notice his crewmate get in.

Beth's hand on his cheek made him moan unashamedly. Her hand was so pleasantly cool against his burning skin, he couldn't help but lean into the touch.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” she murmured. “How are you feeling?”

He smiled, tilting his head to kiss her palm. With the mask between them, it was an awkward sensation, but Beth didn't seem to mind.

He went with the most common, pathetic, cheesy movie-line he could think of. “Better, now that you're here”

That made her laugh. “Oh my. You're such a sap,” she kissed his forehead. “Come on, before your soup gets cold”

Chris sat up, the blankets pooling in his lap and all around him, and Beth gave him the plate of still steaming soup and a spoon. Before he began eating, though, he wanted to take the paracetamol. The sooner he took it, the faster he would begin to get better. He had planned to take it as soon as they brought him the med-kit. Seeing as he had fallen asleep instead, he was already late.

“Could you give me the med-kit, please?”

She gave it to him, and he scooted over to make some space for her to sit on the bed with him. As she did so, Chris rummaged through it 'till he found what he were looking for.

“Shouldn't you eat before you take it?” Beth asked.

Chris couldn't help a smirk. “Paracetamol can be safely taken before eating. But you can read the instructions if you don't trust the ship's doctor with his own health,” he joked.

Beth huffed a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. As he took the med and began eating slowly to avoid upsetting his poor stomach, she took out her computer and resumed her work. They stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“Have you already eaten your lunch?” Chris asked.

“Yes, and then I asked the Commander if I could bring the soup to you. She gave me permission. I think she secretly likes us. As a couple, I mean”

Chris snorted. “She'll never admit that, as long as we're out here. We actually went against every single 'no fraternization' rule right under her command, it's not like she can publicly approve,” he reasoned, shaking his head at the thought.

The medication had luckily started to work, and he didn't feel like his head was wrapped in cotton and his body was being mashed like a potato anymore. He turned his head to kiss Beth's neck, making her giggle at the tickling sensation of the mask against her pale skin.

“Are you _sure_ you're actually ill?” she joked when his kissing trailed lower, peppering her shoulder and collarbone, at least as far as her shirt allowed. “It's not like this is all a big excuse not to work for a couple of days, is it?”

Chris moaned in satisfaction against her skin. “That's exactly that, you've unmasked my evil plan”

Beth laughed and slapped him on his chest. “You lazybones”

He smiled up at her, their eyes meeting over the masks. Then, repositioning himself so that he was laying with his side against Beth's and his head pillowed on her shoulder, he relaxed. Beth took the almost empty bowl from his hand and put it on the nearby table, grabbing the computer she had brought with her and positioning it on her knees.

The next hour fled by in almost complete silence, Beth typing fast and looking at the screen intently, running diagnostics on the equipments that required it – and allowed it to happen remotely – as Chris read one of his medical journals. Periodically, the ones he was a subscriber to would send . _pdf_ s his email account, and NASA would then forward them to the ship for him to read. With all he had had to take care of since Mark's return, he hadn't really been able to read them as thoroughly as he liked.

But he was still sleepy and his mind was still fuzzy from the fever, and it became increasingly difficult to keep track of what he was reading. He would miss a line here and double-read another one there, and it wasn't long until Beth noticed him squinting way too much.

“Chris?”

“Mmmh?”

“Maybe you should rest for a little bit”

“I'm not tired, I swear,” he muttered, stubbornly refusing to admit defeat despite the throbbing in his head.

Beth sighed and put the computer on the table. She got up and stretched her legs.

“Where are you going?”

“I think you'd better sleep a bit more, uh? Also Lewis asked me to come and tell her how you were feeling”

He frowned. “You really don't have to leave,” he said, even if he knew how silly that was, how selfish and, admittedly, medically inaccurate. The mask were a good protection against germs, but like all protections, there was only so much they could do.

“You know I do,” she gently replied. She stroked his cheek and pushed his sweaty – God, he was filthy – hair out of his eyes. “I'll see you later. Try and rest a bit,” she suggested.

When she left the room, Chris let out a frustrated sigh. Selecting a movie to watch from the collections he had brought with him to the interplanetary trip, he lay down once more and watched mindlessly for a while. The movie was funny, he had already seen it – after all, he had taken just enough for the trip from Earth to Mars and back, while they had been spending double that time in space. His head was trying to kill him and his body was feeling stiff once again, meaning the paracetamol's effects were slowly burning off, but he still laughed at some of the jokes and smiled at the foregone happy ending.

Just as he was about to shut the computer down and dim the lights to rest his tired eyes just for a little bit and see how long he could go without taking any painkiller, there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Come in,” he replied in a grunt, annoyed at being disturbed right when he wanted to be left alone.

The door opened to reveal Watney, standing there with the biggest, dorkiest grin Chris had ever seen. It was so big he was sure it was hurting Mark's face. Not to mention it was visible even through the mask. Chris fought back a groan.

“Hey there, Doc!”

“Mark,” Chris nodded. “You should really _not_ be in here, seeing how you just began to get better, like, three days ago,” he grumbled.

Mark gaped in mocked offense. “Now, there, you know I begun getting better almost as soon as I got back on the ship. How would you know it? Easy! 'Cause you're my doctor! You're the one who took care of me. Now I'm here to return the favor,” he cheerfully said.

Chris felt like a hammer was hitting his head. Forcefully and repeatedly. “No need to return any favor, bud. That's literally my job. And given how difficult it was to help you improve this much, I really wouldn't want for you to get sick right now”

“Aww, you're sweet. Why did we even began calling you Bossy Beck at all, I wonder?”

“Watney, I swear to God, if you don't leave _right now_ I'm gonna remind you just why,” he threatened.

Watney raised his hands in the universal gesture of surrender.

“Okay, okay. Damn you get grumpy when you're ill. Poor Beth,” Mark joked. Seeing his less than amused glare, he became serious once again.

“Really, though, it was Beth who asked me to come keep you company.” At Chris's raised eyebrow, he amended. “Well, it was the Commander who asked me to come, but I know Beth prompted her. Seriously, they're all really worried out there. Even Vogel managed to look concerned, would you believe me?”

Chris blushed furiously, at the thought of the crew worrying over him. That's exactly what he had feared would happen, being a burden for his crew mates, useless even in case of an emergency happened.

“Hey, Chris?” Mark's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. The man had probably noticed the dark look on his face, because he was in full jokester-mode, and Chris had come fearing that look in his eyes.

“What?” he asked warily.

“You smell almost as bad I did when I came back!”

With any outraged groan, Beck looked around for something to throw at the other man; finding only one of Beth's sweaters, he threw it. The satisfaction he felt at hitting Mark square on the nose surpassed the burning in his muscles for a moment.

“Get outta here, you overgrown child, or I'll make sure you won't find anything but potatoes to eat 'till we get back home,” he growled.

“You wouldn't!”

“Wanna bet?”

Mark left in a hurry after that, muttering how heartless a friend Chris was, much to the doctor's satisfaction at being alone once again.

After less than two minutes, he was asleep.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Beth got ready for bed that night, she smiled softly at him.

“You really should sleep in the rec room for tonight,” he told her for the tenth time when she slid underneath the covers, pressing her body against him.

Beth had been adamant that she wouldn't sleep on the couch, no matter what.Chris had tried to convince her, but he knew it was a lost battle. Beth could be a stubborn woman when she wanted to be. Not to mention that, if Lewis herself hadn't been able to make her sleep there, Chris had no chance to win this argument.

“Nope,” she grinned, the “p” popping. “I'll sleep here with you, no matter what. This mask is not to bad once you get used to it”

Chris smiled, kissing her nose. It was awkward because of the mask, but Beth was right, it was just a matter of habit.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly.

Her answer was a kiss on his forehead.

They stayed huddled together for a while, Beth's hand on Chris's chest and his cheek against her shoulder, just breathing in unison and enjoying each other's company.

“Beth?” Chris whispered after a while, sleep on the verge to overcome him.

“Mmmh?”

“Do I really smell as bad as Mark?”

She snorted ungraciously right in his ear. “No dear, you don't”

“Are you sure?” he knew his voice sounded whiny.

“I wouldn't sleep with you if you did,” she reassured him.

Chris fell asleep then, gently lulled by Beth's calm breathing, wishing the flu would be over soon.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked the story. Let me know what you think. Kudos and reviews always make my day.
> 
> You can find me here if you like: [IceDrifter](http://www.icedrifter.tumblr.com)


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